


Speechless

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Whouffaldi - Fandom
Genre: F/M, In which the TARDIS is a total Whouffaldi shipper, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Tired of listening to Clara and the Doctor bickering, the TARDIS intervenes in a unique manner.





	Speechless

“Have you lost your mind completely?” the Doctor asked Clara, seething. He was breathing hard, angry and terrified.

Standing there in the console room of the TARDIS, still getting her breath back after a wild and treacherous adventure, Clara balled her hands into fists. “I don’t suppose you want to hear my side of the story,” she predicted, beyond irritated with him for not trusting her judgement.

“No, I really don’t,” he retorted bitterly, pacing, “I already have a pretty good idea. You thought you knew better than me, and so you went around me and did precisely what I told you not to!”

She stepped into his path and replied, “Maybe I _did_ know better than you. Why is that such a problem for you and your bloody ego?”

“My ego?” the Doctor was insulted, and shook his head, giving Clara a look that sent a jolt to her heart and a badly timed, hot wave of desire through her body.

 _God, what is that look, anyway?_ Clara wondered for the thousandth time. It was so intense and emotional, like a lecture and an eye-screwing all in one fell swoop, and when he gave it to her, Clara forgot everything except for how much she wanted the Doctor. She loved that look to bits, she admitted to herself.

“My _ego_ ,” he repeated again, stepping closer, “Has nothing to do with it.” The personal space between them was quickly disappearing, and Clara tried to breathe evenly despite this. His voice grew softer, more sympathetic. “Clara, I think you blame yourself for Danny’s death and as a result, you’re looking for excuses to charge into danger, redeem yourself by doing whatever it takes to protect others, no matter what the risk to yourself. Also, you, get a thrill from the risk that momentarily blots out the pain.” He perched his hands at his pockets and added drily, “Am I right?” He looked tired, as if the conversation was incredibly difficult for him, yet he had no choice but to say these things.

“Don’t presume to know how I feel,” Clara said, her voice tight, throat closing over the pain that was so much more complicated than the Doctor could fathom. She didn’t want to forgive herself, and if she collapsed into the embrace of the Doctor’s pity, Clara knew she might begin to do so.

The grief and guilt over Danny, all mixed up with the way she knew she never should have _been_ with Danny in the first place. That she’d been so damned determined to find someone “good” and “normal,” then make it work, because the Doctor had informed her in as many words that their relationship could never be romantic. So, if it weren’t for Clara and her dishonesty, her muddled and problematic motives, things would have been very different. Danny might still be alive.

Compounding all that mess was the simple and insane fact that Clara was still in love with the Doctor, a love that consumed her more with each passing day. Maybe he had a point about her running in danger’s direction on purpose, when other options would save the day just as effectively.

But he didn’t know what it felt like to live with the weight of all this bearing down on her every day, unable to give voice to it, unable to be free from it. Guilt, pain, a love that couldn’t be voiced, there had to be some release. Being reckless made her feel…even momentarily…weightless.

“Oh, because I’m so hopelessly thick in the head that I could never even begin to understand the intricacies of how you feel? Well, I’m so sorry, but perhaps you could at least do me the common decency of letting me protect you in these situations so that you don’t actually _die!_ " the Doctor exploded.

Clara stepped even closer, glaring up at him, her eyes issuing icy daggers that would have melted on contact with the feelings she bore him in her heart. “Well, maybe _you_ —” she began ranting, only to find that her voice simply cut off mid-sentence. She frowned, confused, and tried again to speak, only to find that her voice wouldn’t work at all. Clara put a hand to her throat and looked over at the Doctor.

“Clara?” He mouthed, all pretense of anger fading into concern, then bewilderment as he discovered that he’d gone suddenly mute as well.

“What is this?” Clara mouthed back, and he shrugged dramatically, frustration setting in. He glanced over at the console and then raised his eyebrows in surprise.

She followed him as he began typing into the keyboard, his words appearing on the screen above them.

“We’ve changed location, Clara. We were so busy arguing that we didn’t even notice we were moving,” he typed.

Clara thought back and realized that she actually had been vaguely aware that the TARDIS had lurched forward and then began to spin, but she was used to holding her ground at this point despite the ship’s sometimes wild motion. Completely absorbed in their confrontation, she just hadn’t _cared_ that they were moving, or why. She almost had to laugh. _Well, that’s a new one._

She checked on their new location and then typed, “The Nebaris system, Doctor. What’s that?”

The Doctor pressed his fingers to his creased forehead. Then he looked around, eyes blazing with accusation. “I can’t believe this,” he typed hurriedly. “The Nebaris system contains a series of planets filled with non-verbal telepaths. The power of their abilities is such that it renders any outside wanderers to this area of space unable to speak.”

Clara’s eyes widened in combined fascination and surprise.

“She must have gotten tired of all the bickering between us,” he typed. “And brought us here so that we would have no choice but to shut up and ultimately…” He dropped into a chair and leaned back far, staring up at the ceiling, starting to…Clara couldn’t believe her eyes…blush. Then he came back over and typed into the computer, “Reconnect.”

“Ohhh,” Clara said mutely, nodding. She pointed up and added, “The TARDIS?” He nodded. God, even the TARDIS was sick of listening to Clara and the Doctor squabble. Could “she” sense how they really felt about each other, and was that part of why she’d intervened? And if so, Clara wondered if the TARDIS would be so kind as to inform her how the Doctor felt!

“It’s stupid,” the Doctor typed, annoyed at the TARDIS’ presumption, perhaps afraid to let his guard down with Clara. “I’m not even mad anymore, okay? Clara, I forgive you for disobeying me back there.”

“ _Disobeying_ you?” Clara typed back, irate, “You are not my boss! We are companions, we are co-bosses, that is the deal!”

“I was just trying to protect you!” the Doctor typed, then gave her “that look” again, making a shiver dart down Clara’s spine. She threw her hands up and he leaned back over, staring her down as he typed firmly with one finger, “!!!!!!!!”

“You’re impossible! Why can’t you just trust me?” Clara put in. He frowned.

“Why can’t you trust me? I—” The Doctor kept typing, but the computer screen shut off with a frankly rude abruptness. He glared at the blank screen. They both understood: since they’d used the keyboard to continue their argument, the TARDIS had cut that off at the pass as well. Now, they had no way to use words to express themselves.

Clara let a long breath out, looking at the Doctor with exhausted regret. This was ridiculous. Were they really so hard-headed and stubborn that they’d let their disagreement get out of control until only the TARDIS could halt their whining, accusing tongues? Best friends should know better than that.

The Doctor always relied on his clever turn of phrase and quick wit to cloak his deeper feelings. Clara could tell that he was immediately out of depth by the desperate look he gave her. _How can we resolve this without speaking?_ he seemed to be asking her, almost pleadingly. He turned away from Clara, hands clasped behind his head, then faced her and saw that her eyes were full of apologies and confusion. 

Then whatever wall they’d erected between them crumbled into dust.

They moved closer to each other by one step, in almost perfect unison, instinct compelling them. Clara didn’t care about her armor and her fear anymore. 

Due to their height difference, she ended up sort of throwing herself into his ready arms, their mouths meeting immediately in a warm and soul-healing kiss. They were finally telling each other how they truly felt. No more defenses, no more bickering, no more lies by omission. 

The Doctor lifted Clara and sat her down on the console, inactive at the moment since the TARDIS had taken back control. He stood between her legs and kissed her, hot and deep, their open mouths and hungry desire leaving no room for tentative chasteness. Clara yanked the Doctor’s coat off aggressively, then ripped his shirt open, covering his chest with kisses. He took her by surprise, reciprocating her fervor as he unbuttoned her black pants and pulled them off, her boots tumbling away on the floor. If Clara could have made a sound right then, a considerable moan would have been the result. She wrapped her legs around him, using them to pull him in as close as possible.

Somehow, Clara thought that the next noise from the Doctor would have been a low growl. He whipped off her black leather jacket, then she raised her arms over her head so that he could remove her white t-shirt before their kissing resumed, breathless and demanding. The Doctor pressed his lips to her neck, then her chest, but lost patience with this as an exploratory technique, intoxicated by the taste of Clara’s skin. He licked and lightly bit the tops of her breasts above her bra, and Clara hurriedly slipped the straps off of her shoulders just in time for him to get rid of the undergarment altogether. Then he gathered her in his arms again, her nipples hard against him, their mouths colliding as Clara’s heart pounded fiercely, an insistent, tight heat at her core beginning to resonate with anticipatory waves of pleasure.

It wasn’t enough, would it ever be enough, she wondered, lost in a haze, entrapped in the powerful feelings between them and never wanting to escape. The Doctor lifted her hips, his arousal sliding against her still-clothed entrance as Clara threw her head back, his hand tangled in her hair. She reached down and treated his belt and trousers with exactly the same amount of calm patience she’d bestowed upon the rest of his clothes, then slid her panties down, completely ready for him. Looking into her eyes, flushed and overpowered, the Doctor mouthed, “I love you,” and Clara nodded, her face utterly serious, tears prickling at her eyes. 

“I love you too,” She told him silently, his eyes glued to her lips before he kissed them again, plunging inside her and grabbing her bottom as she urged her hips further up to take him in as deeply as possible. The noises she would have made as they moved together, her nails trailing down his back; and his mouth, his tongue, his teeth all over her neck and shoulders, would surely have been quite remarkable, Clara thought very distantly, but then he made her come, and come apart completely, disintegrating for him and with him, and Clara lost the concept of thought. They stayed there, joined and sweaty, her thighs hitched around him, his hands grasping them tightly, their breaths gradually slowing. After a few more moments, they separated and she threw her t-shirt and underwear back on, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She blushed, wondering if the shade was closer to purple than red, since that’s how hot her cheeks felt. The Doctor had begun dressing again as well, but he got to his broken shirt buttons and laughed noiselessly. Clara took one look at his disheveled state and laughed as well, heartily and joyfully.

Right after their encounter, she’d felt a little sheepish about how wildly she’d behaved with him. Still, it had felt…incredible. Now, after a glance at his sparkling blue eyes, his very ruffled silver hair and completely messed up attire, Clara just hugged the Doctor, and he hugged her back, warm and comforting. He took a red plaid fleece blanket from a side panel storage chamber and wrapped it around her, then smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. Clara smiled and clasped his face, pressing her own brow to his. 

The TARDIS lurched into motion, so the Doctor placed one hand on the console to keep them upright, still embracing Clara. Soon after, Clara’s power of speech returned. She used it to say adoringly, “You know, I think I really needed that.”

The Doctor grinned like a lovestruck schoolboy. “Me, too.” His face became more serious as he added, “I’m so sorry, Clara, about earlier. I don’t ever want you to think I don’t respect your decisions. I just can’t bear the idea of anything happening to you, and quite frankly, I’m not gonna let it. Sorry about that, too, if you’re still dead-set on nonstop peril. I apologize for refusing to let you endanger yourself, because I do absolutely refuse.”

But Clara grinned back and assured him, “Actually, I think I’m done with my self-punishing phase. And I’m sorry, too, because I showed absolutely zero respect for your judgement on that trip, and then got angry when you disapproved of mine. It doesn’t actually make much sense, that line of thinking. I should’ve just been honest with you about _everything_ that’s been bothering me lately, like all these feelings for you I kept stamping down.”

“Clara, you can always talk to me,” the Doctor assured her, caressing her cheek.

“That goes both ways, you know. Based on what just happened, it seems that you’ve been holding yourself back from me for quite a long time as well.”

You’re right, but I’m stopping now, I swear it. And as for you,” the Doctor called to the TARDIS, “You’d better not have been paying attention to that.”

“But how else would she have known to give us our voices back?” Clara asked, more than a little amused at the Doctor’s offended, irritated face. “Come on, she did us a favor. Maybe the TARDIS has a bit of a soft spot for me after all. Or she just wants you to be happy that badly.”

“Yes,” the Doctor answered softly, kissing her lips sweetly, slowly. “Or, I suspect, a little bit of both.”


End file.
